His traps could be bigger.

Monthly Archives: May 2012

I was filling my gas tank after work Tuesday afternoon and hadn’t had carbs for about 15 hours, in addition to having not slept as much as I should have. Was thinking about eating chicken schawarma pre-workout (it was good). After I finished I got in the car and started bumping Arty and Mat Zo – Mozart.

Picture that for a moment. The image is important to this story. A piece of shit Asian-American with a stupid haircut wearing scrubs WHO DOESN’T EVEN LIFT, driving a Nissan his parents bought for him bumping some stereotypical techno.

As I turn into the street I hear a car honk, and I figure it wasn’t necessarily at me since I haven’t pulled out in front of anyone and hadn’t made any aggressive or crazy driving maneuvers. So I get to the stoplight and I’m sitting there just chilling to repetitive base and synthetic noises.

I see a flash of red in my rearview mirror and when I look over I see boxers, jeans, and a white t-shirt, then a hand reaching for my car. My initial thought is great, I’m about to get fucking mugged, welp it was nice knowing everyone, and then I realize that while this person’s hand is on my car, it’s not trying to get the door open. He’s screwing my gas cap closed. I had left it open after filling up my tank. Even goes through the courtesy of closing the gas tank hatch.

I turn and wave my thanks, already feeling like a real asshole. He gets in a car on the passenger side, and I see the driver’s face, some punk fucking 17 year old high school kid looking back with utter disgust. Like, not just “man, what a dumb kid” disgust, this fucking asshole was thinking, “man, I hope he fucking kills himself and I hope the last thing his family remembers about him is his bloodied corpse lying in its own waste while larvae crawl out of his eye sockets.” This fucking kid was thinking, “stereotypical Asian driver.”

Wanted to say, HEY ASSHOLE, I GUESS YOU’VE NEVER MADE A FUCKING MISTAKE BEFORE, GUESS YOU’VE NEVER DONE ANYTHING STUPID IN YOUR LIFE, HAVE FUN WITH YOUR FUCKING FINALS SHITHEAD BRB I REMEMBER WHEN I WAS IN HIGH SCHOOL, MUST SUCK TO HAVE ALL THAT INNOCENT HOPE FOR THE FUTURE, YOU’RE GONNA ENJOY IT WHEN YOUR BELIEFS AND IDEALS AREN’T RECONCILED IN THE REAL WORLD. Instead I turned up the music and drove off.

Hey guys – I just went out commando today. Was finishing laundry and none of my plaid boxer briefs were finished drying but I was in the mood for chicken schawarma. I said, fuck it, and put on some jeans and oscar miked.

“Cool story bro. Welcome to ninth grade.”

When I was doing my clinicals for x-ray there I met a tech at one of the medical centers in Wichita Falls that I did my rotations at. Guy was one of the coolest 40 year olds I’d ever met. Single dad, ex-Army, and was pretty creative. Guy was real good at thinking outside of the box and whenever we weren’t busy in the department he would ask people problem-solving type questions or riddles. He was the kind of guy who would write thoughts on the whiteboard where the exams were scheduled.

Needless to say, I looked up to this guy. I was 22 years old and I said aloud on more than one occasion, “I want to be like Curtis when I grow up.”

One of the conversations we had one day was about how jeans come with holes already in them.

“Back when I was a kid – ” Curtis started, then he exaggerated his old white guy voice, ” – ‘back in my day, we had to earn our holes, man.’ You know, wearing them for a week without washing them, jumping over fences, running away from dogs or cops.”

I wasn’t cool enough back then to want to wear jeans with holes in them. But one fateful day, after wearing my jeans every day for a week and having jumped over fences and walked very briskly away from cute girls in college, I noticed – oh my, there seems to be a hole in the thigh of these jeans.

I was on a college budget at the time and I’ve also never really cared about my wardrobe a whole lot as long as I was wearing a t-shirt that reflected either major depressive disorder or lifting weights (and I guess now Bob Marley heh heh heh) so I was like, welp, guess I’ve earned my fucking holes now. So I now made regular appearances around campus and town with a rapidly growing hole in the thigh of my jeans that show cased my plaid boxers to the world.

That semester I made friends with this pretty cute latina chick that worked at the hospital. Hey guys, let me save you from the fucking suspense – I got friend-zoned. But that’s kind of an irrelevant point. I asked for her number one day because she was someone I wanted to hang out with and we became text buddies.

One day I noticed that the hole in my jeans had become kind of unreasonably large. I asked for her opinion, if she had a hole in her jeans that was about yeigh big, would she continue wearing them? She told me it was a bad idea, but I went to go see her wearing the jeans anyway. And, similar to today, all my plaid boxers were in the dryer, so I said fuck it and went out commando. Fuck it, it’s just my woefully under-developed quad.

I guess a quick side note, even after I’d graduated the x-ray program, I’d still go up to see her at her work to hang out because she didn’t want to spend time outside of work with me but enjoyed the company since she was bored while at work. I brought her lunch and boba tea on several occasions. “Strong WK” go fuck yourself please BRB living in a world where bringing a friend lunch to her work is something to be ashamed about BRB everything I do is a sign of weakness BRB I fucking hate my life.

Anyways, the point is – at least one person had advised me to not continue wearing my well-worn jeans due to their state of deterioration. To be completely fair, quite a few people had expressed their disapproval with their withering glares or looks of pitiable disgust. But I was young, it was new, I was having a great time!

Later, I would meet with my parents for dinner. They expressed disapproval at my choice in attire. My mom offered me money so I could go buy wearable clothes.

“It’s fine,” I explained, “This is how you’re supposed to wear jeans in modern America.” Typical lame, ultra-conservative Korean parents, so out of touch with how the world is changing.

So we have our dinner. We leave the restaurant and head to the car in the parking lot. And my mom asks me,

At the end of the night I get home and take off my jeans, and I can’t help but notice that there are more holes in the jeans than I thought. There was one in my back pocket, so that the corner of my wallet peeked through, and also one about the size of a credit card where the lower quadrant of my left buttock would be. Good. Thinks he is blossoming into adulthood. Just looks like more of an awkward piece of shit.

* * *

I’ve snatched up to 235lbs twice in the past week, that’s been pretty good. C+J still kinda sucks, I’ve gone as high as 275lbs and cleaned 285lbs once but I should probably devote more attempts at getting multiple singles at 275 or so.

Went to Blackbox DFW on Thursday where Dutch suggested I try starting with lower hips and walked me through the start position for the snatch and clean. Guess I’ll start working on this. Felt good to get away from pulling like I believe in Starting Strength.

SilentMachinery writes:

The idiosyncratic language only bothers me when it fails to communicate his thoughts effectively. Which is always.

Sounds like a fucking personal problem to me.

stonewall writes:

I like the fact that Glenn knows you’re a real piece of shit and wouldn’t listen to him even if he was coaching you! That’s just great, buddy!

For those of you that missed it in the comments, see Glenn Pendlay’s official opinion about me here. Pretty spot on.

Stonewall also writes:

Ironic Title is Ironic. Mostly due to the fact you probably wont post another failboat, ever. Its probably better just to call it a day and quit instead of exciting yourself with these “failboat” ambitions; we all know where this is headed. Its like the good damn titanic, brent. Only its not as tragic because not as many people will be freezing and drowning in the Atlantic Ocean. All I can see is fucking icebergs, dooder.

You’re pretty wrong, it’s surprising to me that you wouldn’t expect that I have TOO MANY failboat stories to share. I can do this all day, baby.

Chris E. writes:

wait…so you didn’t go take a dump and the female trainer walk in on you? I thought that was where this story was going.